Fortune
by SavvyJackie
Summary: An eclectic collection of moments from Inej's perspective. Set before the events of Six of Crows.


i. summer

in her room inej finds flowers. they are stacked in vases everywhere- on the tables, on the wooden floorboards, on the windowsill, on her small, rickety nightstand. she gapes at the sight before specht comes up the stairs behind her and says, "kaz said to put 'em there."

inej's heart flutters. kaz? she thought of her parents and geraniums.

when inej raises an eyebrow at him, specht rubs his neck and shrugs. "said it was for a job."

of course. this was business like everything else, though she can't think up an explanation for something this sweet-smelling.

there is a stack of jurda packages waiting for her in kaz's office.

"a cargo ship will be coming in tomorrow. hide as much of the jurda as you can in the pots tonight. specht will deliver them and you'll act as scout and take care of trouble at the docks if it comes."

she nods before she leaves. it is as simple as that. she doesn't ask questions when he is bent over scribbling on paper like he was. he was always counting, always drawing out plans. there would never be time for him to deliver flowers on a whim, even if he wanted to, and it was laughable to think he would want to. dirtyhands would never do such a thing. it would be unbecoming of his reputation. inej did not know where the ketterdam legend ended and where the man began.

sometimes kaz beckoned her to his office this way, by leaving bizarre things in her room. auction flyers, merchers' letters with words not meant for her eyes, new knives. the flowers are by far her favorite.

ii. the fortune teller

the old suli woman had wrinkles so deep inej couldn't help but stare. she strung along with the caravan in the previous town. a new act. she'd grabbed inej's hand and pulled it so close to her face inej could feel her hot breath on her palm. she spoke of monsters.

"dark days before you, child," she rasped. she was blind but inej felt as if she were being stared at. the glossy eyes were level with her face. "don't tread into the crow's shadow."

it was a suli superstition, mostly among the elders, that crows were bad luck. still inej wonders, on one of the many nights scurrying across rooftops, trailing after the knocks of his cane on the cobblestone streets, knives bloody in her hands, if he is the monster she was warned about, the disaster fate had in store for her.

the first time a group of dime lions intercept kaz, jesper and inej in an alley at night, inej discovers than kaz is something more wolf than man.

there are six men, all height and muscle. they corner them from all sides. inej thinks to scale the walls and jesper draws a pistol but kaz holds up a hand, signaling that he doesn't want them to fight.

he perches both hands on his cane and asks, "what business?"

"tell you what business, brekker," one dime lion sneers. he's got tattoos and a pack of muscles on his arms. his jaw is clenched and the rest of the men surrounding them have got their hands in fists. "pekka rollins didn't appreciate you stealing his jurda."

kaz shrugs. "i didn't see his name written on it."

the dime lion spits on the floor and ambles up to kaz, towering above him. "who do you think rollins was mad at for your little stunt? i've got a family to feed, and he cut my wages for a month. i'm going to finish you, brekker. then he's going to pay me double."

"all of us," a man with a bald head and a half-missing ear says behind him, cracking his knuckles. inej keeps her eyes where she could see their hands.

"get out of our way, holder," kaz says calmly, looking at the ground.

holder growls at the sound of his name. "not until we get what we're owed."

"your anger is misdirected. i didn't cut your wages. rollins did. if he can't handle a bit of competition, maybe you should reconsider your employer."

holder gives a look that is half smile, half grimace. "and what, come and work for you?"

"don't get ahead of yourself. i have a selective hiring process, and you wouldn't even make it to the interview."

inej's lips quirk. kaz never does interviews. he looks at a person's skill level, what they could do on the streets with weapons, what they could do in the gambling dens with their minds, what they could do to the crowds outside the crow club with charming words. every person is a potential exploit, but he doesn't bring in anyone he thinks could turn on him. holder and his men won't make the cut on that end. still, it is fun for inej to watch the dumbfounded look on holder's face.

"and it'd be damn painful to get that tattoo removed," jasper mutters to inej.

inej thinks of the jagged scar on her own arm. maybe it would be worth it, even for the dime lions. cruel as they are- cruel as anyone has to be to be in a gang at the barrel- there has to be something better out there for them.

"you think you're tough, brekker? the barrel eats kids like you," holder growls.

"it already tried. it decided it didn't like the taste of me and spit me back out."

holder is an impatient man, although with kaz's smart remarks, inej can't blame him. he lunges at kaz. kaz lifts his cane and hits the man's swinging arm and both legs with the edge of the cane. a quick stab from the crow's sharp beak is enough to paralyze the parts it touches. holder plummets to the floor.

the other men follow after him. inej draws her knives as a protective measure, but kaz has the six of them down in minutes. they all groan and squirm on the floor like helpless worms. inej relaxes her grip on the knives, glad that she is spared the effort.

kaz is breathless but unscathed. his hair is disheveled, some strands sticking to his forehead with sweat. he wipes the back of one gloved hand across his eyebrow. the full moon's light makes his pale skin even paler- a ghost in the shadows with a heap of frightened men lying beneath him as proof of his haunting.

he straightens his coat, then crouches down in front of holder, who is gripping one of his legs and moaning from the pain.

he pushes the end of his cane against holder's throat, pinning his head to the ground. holder whimpers.

"dear lydia wouldn't like it if you came home with no wages at all, would she? how are you going to do your job with a crushed throat?"

inej winces. she knows kaz keeps tabs on everyone that lives in the barrel, friend or foe. this man doesn't. at the mention of his wife, a new courage overtakes holder and he starts thrashing and reaching for kaz. the force of the cane is too strong and kaz pushes it with more force against his throat until holder's face turns purple. inej can see the apple of his throat bob as he chokes. just when inej thinks he'll kill the man, kaz pulls back the cane. holder wheezes and turns on his side to spit.

"before you ever think of crossing me again, holder, ask yourself this: who's going to be left alive to put food on little max's table? the barrel eats kid like him."

the rest of men, too paralyzed to move, stay frozen in place by his words. they have families too, inej imagines.

she stares at his back as he stalks away and her and jesper follow. jesper seems unchanged. he's still fiddling with his revolvers long after they put distance between themselves and the dime lions, but it's not out of place. kaz is silent and there's a tension in his shoulders.

inej knows kaz could fight. he taught her all she knew along with jesper. yet seeing him in action was different. his words were his cruelest edge. she didn't know whether to admire or fear the way his voice cut through the night air like a sharp, cold blade. all she can do is pray to the saints she never gives him reason to use it on her.

iii. faith

"you're holding your chin too high, inej," kaz pants as he ducks a forward slash of her knife.

they train every day in the fenced area behind the crow club where empty crates are kept and, occasionally, is used for a brawl. kaz doesn't want fighting inside the club itself, but the streets of the barrel are free reign. those mostly happened at night, though. in the early hours of the day, when the sun is just cracking open an eye, it is their space.

inej is breathless. most days they stop after two hours. but today they are nearing the third. she doesn't mind, but she could feel her shirt sticking to her back and her legs growing sore.

"old habit," inej grunts in response. she was still walking the high rope every time she perked up her chin.

she's on the offensive and backing him up against the fence. she tries to go where she thinks he isn't looking but she has yet to scathe him. just when his back nearly touches the fence, he ducks under her arm and their positions are switched, leaving her in a constricted space. he uses the advantage to lunge forward with his own knife. she ducks and tries for the knee on his good leg but he slides out of the way with ease.

he's already cut the fabric of her elbow and inej can't shake the frustration of that. as if reading her mind, he says, "don't lose your focus."

she takes a deep breath and recenters herself, looking for signs in his body language about what his next move would be.

inej likes these trainings. sometimes jesper joins them and she fights with him, too while kaz observes from the side, leaning on the crates and calling out her mistakes. but kaz is better than jesper. he favors the blade while jesper favors the gun, and it shows. inej was starting to best jesper, but kaz was still a challenge.

just as they are finishing, the sun breaks over the slanted roofs of ketterdam and paints the clouds a fiery orange. inej feels the sweat dripping down her face and can see it gleaming on kaz's forehead. for a moment, they pull back and look at each other, standing still and breathing hard. his eyes turn gold catching the light. it is a new sight to her. she is used to seeing them the way they are at night: black and menacing; the promise of reckoning. inej doesn't know if it is because she is too tired, or if the sight of him has distracted her, or if she fooled herself into thinking he would let them stay suspended in peace like this, but he disarms her. his foot comes up to meet her hand in a kick she didn't know he could throw. the blade knocks out of her hand and clatters to the floor. a moment later, kaz's own is an inch away from the curve of her neck.

"you didn't tuck your chin in," he says. he's right. if he were a real opponent and her neck was exposed, she would already be on the floor with her throat bleeding out. then she thinks, i don't mind exposing my throat to you. the thought is brief and it burns something in her, but she pushes it aside.

he retracts the blade and wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve. "you're still performing."

"i know."

"we'll do this again tomorrow." he opens the door and inej can hear the light chatter from within. another day starting, another day of theft and deceit. she is reminded of why she's there. the feeling she had a moment ago- of being light as a feather, nothing weighing her down, the coolness of dusk, the blade, and kaz her only realities- fades.

she follows after him and wonders what kind of person he has to be to glide through this world like it is his own. she supposes she should start getting used to the idea that he created a part of it, but she can't. not when he's trained her like he has, day in and day out, never relenting, making her faster; stronger; someone dangerous. not when she's seen his eyes look gold.


End file.
